


Nice Weather We're Having

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: Constance Marie Bridgforth [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Constance has Words to say, Fluff, Futurefic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Angst, Past Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len doesn't know how to accept compliments. Constance has a thing or two to say about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Weather We're Having

**Author's Note:**

  * For [languageismymistress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/languageismymistress/gifts).



> I also don't know how to take compliments. "Thank you" is so insufficient.
> 
> So when a wonderful someone actually seeks me out just to say they like my writing??? you might as well look at me and say "youreturningscarletscarlet" ;)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, sweetie.

Constance likes to think she's an observant woman. Had to be, growing up in a world tearing itself apart. She's seen her fair share of violence—hell, she's _done_ her fair share. She knows how it sits in a heart, both the afflicting and afflicted.

Leonard Snart? Yeah, he's the first. But under all that?

* * *

They're in the park. It's a lovely summer morning, nothing happening for once, even in a city so big. Constance breathes in the fresh air, leaning forwards on her cane as she takes in the lovely playground scene before her.

Barry's pushing Michael on the swings, laughing as the boy squeals, "Higher, Daddy, higher!" Both of them are wearing red shirts and blue jeans, with smiles brighter than the sun in the cloudless sky above them. It's like something out of a story book, it is; anyone'd be lucky to be able to step into their page.

So Constance has to wonder why Leonard is sitting next to her instead of enjoying what he's got.

"You plan your outfits before you left the house today?" she asks, because Leonard's also got the red shirt-blue jeans combo. She gets a lopsided smirk in return.

"Barry didn't feel like changing," Leonard says.

Constance snorts, "'Course he didn't. Because Heaven forbid the fastest boy alive make a decent excuse other than 'I think we should go out like this because it's adorable and Mama Constance'll love it.'" The smirk widens. "Well, I can say this: outta the two of you, you look better in red."

And Leonard...freezes. (Hush up.) Blinks once, twice.

"Nice weather we're having."

Constance raises an eyebrow. "Boy, when a lady compliments you, you say 'thank you, m'am.'"

Leonard clears his throat. "Thank you m'am," he recites.

"That's better." She mutters to herself, "'nice weather we're having'...it's like you've never had a compliment before."

When his expression hardens, it strikes her.

Of course he hasn't.

* * *

Constance doesn't need to ask. She had a neighbor growing up, little Annie Wilson. Baby girl was only ten when her mommy and daddy smashed bottles next to her head until they didn't miss. That haunted look was so out of place on her tiny face—like a storm just starting to rumble, but everything inside her trying to keep it from erupting into a twister, because she knew nobody was going to help either way.

It looks out of place on Leonard's face too.

* * *

They're at Constance's favorite diner, just herself and Leonard. Barry went off with Michael to get ice cream, because Constance said she needed to talk to  _Mister Freeze_ alone.

"There's already a Mister Freeze, m'am," smirks Leonard.

"You hush, _Captain Cold_ ," Constance says, "I've got something to say to you and you're gonna sit back and listen."

The smirk dissipates into mild confusion. (According to friends, he's become more open with Barry in his life. Despite not knowing them before, Constance knows it's true.)

"First of all," she begins, "I'm gonna tell you right now that what I'm about to say is nothing but what I firmly believe. You got that?" Leonard nods, slowly. Cautious, as if Constance is going to snap through her brittle bones and break his, even after knowing her so long. It only increases Constance's conviction.

She grabs his hand, looks him in the eye like when they first met. Only this time, she stares into his surprised face with firm affection.

"You, young man, are something special," she says. Leonard stiffens. "Don't close up on me now. I told you, I'm saying nothing but what I believe. Now listen: you are something special. I don't know who you were before Captain Cold, but I know that boy's something special too. You look at Barry like he's an angel come down from Heaven, but you, Leonard, don't even realize you've got that same light in you. And it's a strong light, boy, strong and beautiful.

"I'm not going to harp on you with questions or some 'it gets better' crap, because you've already got the best, right here and now. You reached your mountain top, Leonard, and you got the conviction to stay there. Look at you—got a husband who loves you to the moon and back, and a baby boy who looks up to  _you,_ and you know what I see? I see a man who's so terrified of becoming a monster he doesn't realize he's already out of the dark.

"I am proud of you, son. I am proud of who you've become, and who you're going to be. Nobody's gonna change that. You understand?"

Leonard stares again. His baby blues are wider than dinner plates, and Constance can feel the mild tremors in his hand.

"I've said my piece," she says at length.

And his trembling fingers clamp on hers. Constance meets his eyes again—there's a tear tracking down his face.

His voice is a choked whisper, cracking like a child's: "Thank you, m'am."

She squeezes back with all her might. "Anytime, son. Anytime."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you.


End file.
